


ANY OTHER KEY

by mattador



Category: Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuuutsu | The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi
Genre: F/M, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-30
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 08:06:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattador/pseuds/mattador
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU departure from the assembly of the keys in The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya.  What happens when Kyon has to spend more than two days in the normal world?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

No matter how much trouble it might be for me, it was impossible to make a decision like this selfishly.

 

“What about all of you?” I asked after a moment, staring around at them. “Is it really okay for me to do this? To change everything for my benefit?”

 

Asahina-san looked confused. No one had explained the situation to her. The more nervous she got, the more she looked at Haruhi – Haruhi? For reassurance? Even if she had represented the mysterious authority of the Student Council Intelligence Division, there was no way a mercurial and demanding stranger could be seen as comforting in a situation like this one! It went against the principles of common sense.

 

“Of course it's all right!” Haruhi proclaimed, as reckless as ever. “The universe is broken! It's your responsibility to fix it, and to go tell my stupid alternate self everything you told me!” She danced from foot to foot, furious and frenetic. Of course Haruhi would always choose the selfish option.

 

Itsuki tilted his head to one side, still smiling. “How to put it?” he asked. Rhetorical questions were almost as good as pointless or unanswerable ones for him. “Do you think my chances are greater in this world or the other one of reaching my aspirations?”

 

As if I could know the answer to a thing like that! Even if his aspiration was filling a corner of the room, fiendish but waiting petulantly, it was impossible to guess what twists her mind might make from one moment to the other, especially in a strange world!

 

“Ah... this one,” I said, grudgingly, with a glance at Haruhi's ponytail. He nodded, silently, but didn't say anything.

 

“Nagato?” I asked, turning to face her. I was still alarmed to see her hugging her arms, cheeks flushed, looking down – a hedonistic wealth of expression!

 

“If you would be happier there,” she started, and a voice in my ear said “Gomen,” pleasantly, as Itsuki leaned forward to double-tap the space bar.


	2. Chapter One

The next day, Itsuki was waiting for me at the school gate, still smiling. His black eyes were extremely impressive, shining blues and purples, and the swelling meant that his perpetual bodhisattva squint was no longer a matter of choice.

 

“I thought we should talk,” he said, peaceably, holding up one hand, either as a greeting or a precaution meant to deflect incoming punches. “May I take you out for a cup of coffee?”

 

“Your treat,” I said, and followed him down the hill. Undoubtedly if a look of any magnitude could kill, my glare would have decapitated him immediately, but at this point there was no longer any need to start a commotion in a public place.

 

The truth was settling in. Yesterday I would have felt differently. Nor was I the only one! Only one of those black eyes was from me. But from here on out I had to consider the kinds of trouble I might be causing others. Sorry, Present Day Asahina-san. Sorry, Nagato-san. I never intended to frighten you. Apologies for that were something I still had to take care of, although it was my understanding that Tsuruya-san was now out for my blood.

 

With any luck, I could avoid similar retribution being sworn by Asakura!

 

First, however, there was the problem of Koizumi to be dealt with. The inside of the coffee shop was quiet and warm, and despite the alarmed looks he received from the barista, we had our orders filled promptly. Please, onee-san, don't judge me so harshly with your gaze! After all, it isn't as though I am mugging him. His black eye and my skinned knuckles are merely a coincidence! And if you won't believe that, please dismiss them as unavoidable collateral damage.

 

“Collateral damage,” Itsuki observed after a sip of his drink. “I suppose that's one way of looking at all of this.”

 

I tried to consider him with the same kind of judgment usually reserved for finding a cockroach in an unexpected location.

 

“I still haven't decided whether or not I believe your story,” he said, after a moment, smiling over the rim of his beverage. It appears that whatever universe I inhabit, this grin never changes. “However, in light of your reaction yesterday, I am certainly convinced that you believe in it. The only other plausible explanation that has occurred to me would involved you engaging in a long-term campaign of stalking and information gathering against Suzumiya-san, and I don't believe that either she or I myself could have missed all the signs of such a thing. In any case, if I have destroyed a world or a potential world, or merely stranded you here, out of reach of your home, I owe you an apology. I have no excuse for what I have done.”

 

That's not true.

 

Itsuki shrugged. “Well, formal language has its drawbacks after all. In any case, I am offering no excuse, and I wouldn't expect you to accept such excuses if I did – although I would, perhaps, expect you to understand them.” His head tilts slightly, and he waits. I don't think I have ever despised that particular expression quite as much as I do now. If I'm honest with myself, being irritated with Koizumi's actions is simply a comfortable habit, and like any such habit, unlikely to change. Friendships based in rivalry are common, so friendships based on annoyance should be similar, however stupid that may sound. Somewhere beneath that smiling mask there is a sincere, concerned soul, who has helped me many times, and who exhausts himself to save the world.

 

That means only, of course, that wanting to target his bruises and punch them all again should in no way be considered a meditation on his true character. Dammit, Koizumi. If you're not breaking your facade, why should I be expected to break mine? Aren't detente proceedings supposed to be mutual?

 

“Yeah,” I said at last, hoping that the words won't come out too grudgingly. “I understand.”

 

“I'm glad,” he replied, simply. Maybe that was a shred of honesty peeking through. Certainly simple courtesy wouldn't demand such an admission at this point – not after the events of yesterday. “Then, with regard to the other conflict remaining between us...”

 

“Now I don't know what you're talking about at all.”

 

“I see.” His head bobbed, knowingly. “Well, in any case, I believe we're on even footing now. You're an interesting person, Kyon. Perhaps, if anything further develops that seems worth speaking about, we could stay in touch?” He leaned forward as he speoke, and like a magic trick, his phone appeared in his hand. Never mind, Koizumi. I'm sure it was just hidden up your sleeve, a spot of prestidigitation learned in order to make a better impression on a certain person. Indeed, many things seem unchanged from world to world. Although, I would think, here in this world your motivations might be different... but the motivations of the old world's Koizumi are unlikely to matter to me again.

 

We exchanged phone numbers, and Koizumi asked the barista for a lid for his drink before he left. However, no matter how much energy I felt I might need for the trials of the upcoming day, my own coffee had no savor. I left it on the table, and hurried, reluctantly, back up the hill.

 

After all, by now I'm late, and will have to apologize yet again to the person who was waiting for me. As of this morning, when I turned in the paperwork, I had become the newest member of the Literature Club.


	3. Chapter Two

 

Thankfully, Nagato was still seated in her usual spot when I arrived in the clubroom. She looked up when I entered, turning slightly to face me, and seemed very relieved that I had arrived. To tell the truth, it was quite a relief to see Nagato there as well. It might be selfish of me to join the Literature Club, after all, when my real interests were much more in line with keeping myself sane and trying to find something familiar in this world, but a sailor clinging to a spar during a shipwreck doesn't worry that he's being selfish, so neither would I.

 

“Sorry I'm late. I hope I haven't been causing you too much trouble.” She shook her head. Of course, even with her shy personality, Nagato seems as reliable as ever. While it's undoubtedly true that it would be unfair to depend on this Nagato quite as much as I did her previous self... well. I already resolved not to worry. I'd just have to be sure not to cause a further upset.

 

Sliding into place in front of the computer, I jiggled the mouse to wake it up. Of course there was no remaining sign of the rescue program, just the usual array of desktop icons. I didn't truly expect anything different...

 

Nagato was looking up at me over the pages of her book, a sidelong glance that seemed to shift elsewhere the moment I looked up. Adjusting to a Nagato with such expressions was going to be interesting... and come to think of it, that wasn't the same book she was reading yesterday. In fact, even though I arrived over half an hour late, it appeared that Nagato was only a few pages in. Could such a thing be possible? Was there some sort of distraction, or possibly something that made Nagato late herself?

 

“Is everything all right?”

 

That minute nod was familiar, at least. After a moment she lifted one hand from her book and pointed to the desk behind the computer. A well-paged-through paperback sat there, innocently, and I leaned forward to pick it up.

 

“Nine Princes,” I murmured. “Isn't that an excessive number?” For some reason it seemed that Nagato wanted me to read this slender, weathered tome. All right. For Nagato, I'll be sure to read it right away. The fact that it's clearly her personal copy simply makes that more important. Could it be that this was one of her favorites?

 

She shook her head, blushing slightly. Of course, I'm sure for Nagato it's impossible to narrow things down simplistically to a small list of favorites. Every book is unique, is that right?

 

“Y-yes.” Her eyes, staring at me as if I had said something astonishing, looked truly huge. Haven't I heard Nagato pronounce that one word, 'unique,' in a very satisfied way almost countless times after finishing a novel. Ah, but of course, that wasn't this Nagato, even if they share opinions. Instead it must appear that I've inherited esper powers to know her so well after a short time. It would be good if that made familiarity more easy, but I'm almost certain that isn't how it works. And of course this would be impossible to explain in a sensible way, unless Nagato believes me about the past few days, which is too embarrassing to inquire. You wouldn't be able to risk knowing she thought you were crazy, either!

 

“I thought... it was relevant.” These words seemed to come at a great effort, and even though Nagato was staring intently, her gaze seemed to be boring through to my shoulder-blades rather than rising to meet my face. It would be a lie to say that I didn't understand, at least somewhat.

 

Relevant? The question would be relevant to what, but reading this book was suddenly a much more exciting prospect, rather than an obligation to be honorably discharged for fear of severe dereliction of duty.

 

“I'll start right away,” I promised, and another hour passed in silence as the two of us read, before it was finally time to close up the clubroom and head home. The silence was a little awkward as we walked together until our homeward routes diverged, , but there was still something satisfying about nodding our good-byes.

 

***

 

Despite the irritating distance of the walk and the ever-present trial presented by the hill, I have always thought of the walk home from school as a time of peaceful reflection. As a diver needs to pause and decompress when returning from untold and murky depths, so it is also necessary to relax after a day spent dealing with the stresses and insanities presented by school life – moreso since I first joined the SOS Brigade, and even more than ever in this last week, stranded here without it. It was all I could do not to fill the air with grateful sighs – speaking metaphorically of course.

 

So it came as a great and obviously unwelcome surprise when, in the final stretch of this journey, I was seized in a grip that could be favorably compared to a pair of iron bars squeezing me in a headlock.

 

“Hoho ho, Kyon's not gettings away with what he did that easily!”

 

That voice isn't usually one that can inspire terror in me – not in any world that contains a form of Suzumiya Haruhi! However in this case, I was forced to make an exception.

 

“Ah!” I gasped, wriggling like a hooked fish and just as unlikely to get free. Tsuruya-san's martial prowess is evidently not to be underestimated by mere mortals! “Tsuruya-san... please let go so that we can discuss this like reasonable – “

 

“Not likelies!” She proclaimed, loudly, squeezing harder and dragging me backward along the sidewalk. What any witnesses might be making of this I don't know, but since I was late coming back after club activities, I can guess the likeliest answer: there aren't any.

 

“Kyon-kun has shown himself to be a surprisingly devious villain,” Asahina-san's appointed paladin growled in my ear. “So if I lets him go, he might just bolt and get away, and we can't be having that, ~nyoro! We need to have a talksies about his conduct.”

 

It's undoubtedly true that frightening Asahina-san again yesterday was unforgiveable, even if it was also unforseeable. However none of this seems wise to admit to at the moment, when summary punishments might be dispensed. Best to weather the storm without admitting to any sort of culpability in wrongdoing. However, allowing the situation to continue in this posture is equally unacceptable, being a literal pain in the neck.

 

“Ah... if Tsuruya-san could just turn and step into my escape route,” I managed, before needing to gasp and wheeze for more breath. I was beginning to see stars. Orihime! Hikoboshi! If it were time to send you another wish, I would surely do so now! As it is altogether the wrong season, instead, please remember me kindly!

 

“Good idea,” Tsuruya mercifully conceded, hauling me in a dizzying circle before suddenly letting go, leaving me to stumble backwards and fall, bruising my dignity severely and other things less severely but still notably. She stood planted before me, frowning fiercely, hands balled into fists and planted on her hips. This forbidding sight alone was surely enough to make any wrongdoer reform, but I doubted she could be convinced of that!

 

As soon as I was able to stand up again, I did so, brushing myself off and wincing, perhaps more theatrically than strictly necessary. Still, showing myself to be surrendered and suffering now might deflect further divine vengeance later. Only the penitent man shall pass!

 

“Tsuruya-san,” I started, bowing. “Rather than cause some sort of disturbance with my presence again, please convey my most sincere apologies to Asahina-san.”

 

“Nope!” Tsuruya announced, reaching forward again to grab my arm and haul me off balance. “I think the streets is a bad place for this. So you'd better come with me and explain just what happened, and why Mikuru-chan is thinkings about joining the Literary Club!”

 

Ah. Of course the real explanation will be impossible, but maybe-

 

Wait.

 

What?


	4. Chapter Three

 

“Did Shami talk yet?”

 

Upon arriving home so late, of course, I was banished to my room in immediate disgrace. An attempted explanation, distilled to avoid unnecessary confusion, meant that my mother immediately drew all the wrong conclusions with a startling immediacy, and refused to be persuaded otherwise afterward. However, this was a blessing in disguise, as rather than being locked away in a high tower on a strict diet of rice, I was simply instructed that no matter what was happening in my social life, it was time for me to focus on my studies. This led to my little sister being sent up with a reheated plate of dinner for me directly afterward, a welcome but entirely unexpected benediction.

 

Shamisen, who had condescended to be my cellmate for the duration of this incarceration, was at that present moment sitting complacently on top of my homework, despite my attempts to convince him otherwise. Therefore, no, Imouto. No matter how I plead with him to have some understanding of my dilemmas, he remains an ordinary cat.

 

“Someone called for Kyon today.”

 

Who?

 

“I don't know. He wanted your new cellphone number, so I gave it to him.”

 

I began to deliver a thoughtful and informative lecture on the subject of not sharing personal information with random strangers, but she stopped me with an adorable pout. Who taught her powerful techniques like that? In this world Imouto hasn't gotten to meet her Mikuru-nee, after all. Was there someone else like that I ought to be aware of? In any case, before these thoughts distracted me, and certainly before I could reach the most important points of the lecture, she cut me off cold.

 

“He said he used to be a classmate.”

 

In this strange new version of reality, that's even less helpful and more vague than it would otherwise have been. Lecture: definitely resumed!

 

However, it would become obvious later that I should have paid much more attention to this seemingly small detail. Even in a world completely devoid of the supernatural, the fate of a kingdom can depend on something as small as a horsehoe nail. The wings of a butterfly, by mechanisms beyond understanding, may alter global weather patterns. And a single missed phone call may be a harbinger of unexpected changes, a glimpse of the future that it would have been very useful to understand farther in advance!

 

***

 

However, the next day started without even the courtesy of a sense of foreboding. After a series of incoherent dreams I was unable to remember the moment after my eyes slowly opened, I woke with the usual sense that the world was entirely cold and that I very much needed at least one more tour from alpha waves to theta waves to delta waves and back. Unfortunately, there was no time to take the scenic route through slow-wave sleep again, and my sister, the cat, and the demands of society all insisted that I get up and face the world with depressing immediacy.

 

Running the bitter gauntlet of climbing the hill to school in freezing weather conditions, while it seemed a cruel medieval punishment for students guilty of no crime greater than procrastination, did serve to pry my protesting brain into wakefulness, however, and I arrived early enough that I had to suffer through a gauntlet of a different kind before class begun: namely, enduring Taniguchi's asinine observations about my life.

 

“So, what's this I hear about a scene in the literary club room the other day, huh? If you're going to be involved in something shady, shouldn't you let your friends know first? Especially if you're going to trick a bunch of A-ranked babes into being there for it!”

 

“Even though I'm sure it's pointless to say so, that isn't what happened.”

 

“What is it, then? Are you still having your crazy nervous breakdown?”

 

“I just had a fever that day. I probably caught it from you.”

 

“Can you tell me what kind of delusion inspired you to get Asahina-hime of class 2-5? Come on! A guy like you couldn't manage that without some kind of secret technique! You've gotta share it!”

 

“To do so would dishonor my ninja clan.”

 

“Ugh. Man, maybe I really should take you down to Kyouyen and try to hook you up with Suzumiya. Did you go looking for her the other day? What was all that about?”

 

“Classified information.”

 

“What the Hell is that supposed to mean?”

 

“In case you're forgetting, I was suffering from a fever. Nothing interesting happened, Taniguchi. Trivial things often seem to be of critical importance when you're sick. That's how it was for me, and given your behavior this morning, I'm beginning to question whether or not you're fully recovered.”

 

His further disgusted noises were cut short, and I was spared, by the arrival of a most unlikely savior. Asakura-san came back to take her seat behind me, and as though in some kind of reverent trance, Taniguchi retreated in silence to meditate on his A++ saint.

 

It did seem that _this_ Asakura-san was only a thoughtful, vivacious girl, entirely deserving of Taniguchi's most stellar grade. However, my memories of her would always be polluted by that image of her carefree smile paired with a vicious knife lifted to stab me. There was no escaping the profound uneasiness, and if it was possible to explain such a thing to her (which it never would be), I believe she would have understood.

 

Compounding the problem, of course, was the apparent face that she had been sitting behind me for months now, something I did  _not_ have a memory of. Did we talk to one another at lunchtime?

 

She didn't seem to consider me a close friend, but after many months she would still expect me to know a few things about her and remember conversations that  _I_ had not had, as from one perspective they predated the creation of the universe!

 

Perhaps Tanisuchi's torments were not so bad, after all. In any case, it was too late for regrets.

 

“Asakura-san,” I said, nodding, trying not to be conspicuous by sweating despite the cold. “Good morning.”

 

“Is it?” she asked, eyes crinkling, her voice like the pleasant chirping of a songbird. “Did I hear something about a commotion the other day?”

 

“Just a misunderstanding,” I said, as blandly as I could while fervently praying in silence for her belief. “A gimmick for the Literature Club's recruitment drive that was tragically carried too far. I believe the matter is now resolved.”

 

“M-hm,” she observed. “That's good. And did it get Nagato-san any new recruits?”

 

“Yes!” I said, perhaps overdoing my relieved and triumphant act by actually experiencing those feelings. I was saved! Truly, in this instance, now that the way had been carefully paved with white lies, the truth would set me free! “Two recruits from the class above us. Tsuruya Chisaki-san and Asahina Mikuru-san.”

 

“That's lucky,” she commented. “Although, isn't that still not enough?”

 

It's certainly true that we need one more...

 

“Well, with the infamous Asahina-san, maybe you could get more male recruits. If it inspires them to truly be interested in literature, that's even better, right?”

 

Ah. That attitude seemed familiar, though it's certainly more responsible about Asahina-san's exploitation. Perhaps it's only realism, after all... Looking over at Taniguchi, he seemed to be torn by this news. On the one hand, a chance to regularly brush elbows with a beautiful, considerate girl, who even on a more nuanced, less superficial scale could not be graded too highly. On the other hand, the dread specter of boredom. This was not a guy who went out of his way to read books, and as for having literary aspirations of his own, forget it!

 

“Maybe I'll drop by,” said Kunikida, unexpectedly, his expression a mixture of shrewd and wistful. “I don't know about joining, but it couldn't hurt to have a look. Especially to determine what inspired Kyon to firest go crazy and then start poking out of his shell. I'm relieved to see you're not turning into a broken-hearted hikikomori after all, despite last year.”

 

Don't say such irresponsible and misleading things, dammit! Just because my memories of the last year don't match the current reality, you can't just imply I spent all my time doing nothing living the life of a recluse, an otaku, or a monk! The last year has nothing to do with it, and it can't be as bad as you make it sound. I'm confident of all these things, but I wished I could be entirely certain.

 

“That should be fine,” is what I actually said. “At least, as long as you're willing to miss a meeting of the Going Home Early Club.”

 

“They'll manage without me,” he said, and turned to look back curiously at Asakura. “If it's all right to say, Asakura-san, if you know one of the other members, why not come too?”

 

“Hm,” she said, staring up at the ceiling in thought. “Well, I was feeling like a change of pace...”

 

Such chilling words! Before I could reflect on their terrible familiarity, Taniguchi nearly had a seizure in his chair, stamping his feet and wrestling with temptation before he could finally choke out the words he'd struggled with.

 

“I'm in! Argh, fine, I'll come too!”

 

Nobody asked, Taniguchi, but it'd be too much trouble – almost a Herculean labor – to stop you now.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things subject to change: Tsuruya's first name. I went through half a dozen different possible names, most of them flower-related. Chisaki (thousand blossoms) won out because it's the most general in meaning, but I also considered Chikeshi (thousand poppies), Chiyuri (thousand lilies), Chikiku (thousand chysanthemums), and Tsubaki (camellia). That said, if there are any fan-popular names or someone else has a better name for her and a rationale as to why it's better, I'm willing to listen.


	5. Chapter Four

Getting to see these shy expressions of alarm on Nagato's face was becoming an extremely bad habit. One might even call it an unforgivable vice. It was unintentional, but trooping in with a large group of strangers for the second time in three days, I suppose you could say it was inevitable. Today was one of the days that Calligraphy Club met as well, so we probably wouldn't be seeing our new members soon, either.

“Nagato-san,” I said with an apologetic bow. “These three are all prospective recruits. I thought I'd bring them by to show them the club room and see if they might fill up that last slot we need for student council approval.”

“Man, that's really motivated of you,” said an unexpected voice from off to my right. “But it's too late for that, anyway – I signed on just a minute ago, so sorry if you can't save the day.”

***

The person who was standing there, hidden as we came in by the door itself, was not at all the sort of person who would ordinarily be camouflaged from view. Both sturdily muscular and intemperately loud, I had always cherished the suspicion that he might be a bear incarnated in human form. To add to that, since I hadn't seen him since graduating middle school, the odds of finding him in the club room would correspond favorably to the odds of winning a disappointing prize in the lottery.

Given my extreme surprise, then, it was probably natural that Kunikida recovered first.

“Nakagawa?” he exclaimed. “Didn't your family move to Indonesia?”

“Ha, I'm honored you remember me,” the ursine avatar answered with a broad grin. “That's right, that's right. But it turns out my old man couldn't stand the weather there, so he put in for an early transfer back to Nishinomiya.” Beyond him, I saw that Nagato was staring in wide-eyes wonder, trembling slightly, curled up in her seat just a little as though she was adopting the defensive mannerisms of a hedgehog. If she had looked actively frightened I might have made some sort of hypocritical protest in her defense, but as it was she simply seemed surprised and overwhelmed.

Nakagawa turned to regard our group, still curiously frozen behind me in the doorway.

“Nakagawa Yoshimi,” he said in introduction, beginning with a polite bow, absolutely ensuring to those who knew him that this unexpected repression must be the calm before a storm of outrageousness. “Rugby, American football, economics, and now literature – I've just joined this club so that I can hone my mind to the same high standards as my body. Please be kind to me now, and in a decade I'll be sure to offer you all positions at my breakthrough company!”

Yes. As expected, this person is still making comments as predictably senseless as Haruhi. As if in a trance, I found myself reciting familiar words to Nakagawa in a dry tone.

“You've certainly transferred in at a very subtle time.”

***

After the commotion died down, it turned out that the future of the club was now secure, completely so. Asakura-san and Kunikida both filled out the membership paperwork as well, bringing us up to seven members, and Taniguchi backed out of the room with his hands raised, politely declining 'for now,' but muttering audibly about 'the odds being worse than expected.' As I refuse to make any attempt to decipher his nonsense, that statement can be safely left a mystery.

While Asakura went to sit beside Nagato, either for friendly conversation or to read over her shoulder, Nakagawa, Kunikida, and I were inevitably left to get caught up with one another about the banal details of our last year. As my own multiversal-induced amnesia made this impossible, I simply made grumbling noises about there being nothing special to report, and listened with interest to Kunikida's explanatory protests that this wasn't true at all.

Do tell, Kunikida. Please enlighten me. For this one occasion, I'm not being sarcastic at all when I say such things!

The litany that followed was actually quite depressing. Apparently I had developed a reputation as always being the first guy to beat the new release of any video game, which wasn't so bad – I thought wistfully of my bedroom in the previous universe, and all the dusty disks and cartridges that had gone untouched for months. Perhaps I should get caught up with myself – assuming I wanted to hang onto this reputation! Apart from that, I seemed to be just as dedicated a member of the Going Home Club as Kunikida himself – from the way that he easily laughed and told aggravating stories about things I didn't remember doing, it seemed that the two of us were closer friends than we had been in my experience. That wasn't so bad, either.

No, the real problem was when Kunikida revealed that I had also become a skeptical reference point for the class – their own personal snopes.com, repeatedly shutting down the antics and activities of the Mystery Study Group, the Supernatural Study Group, and even the Advanced Science Club. Given the sad little chuckle issued by Kunikida as he detailed these incidents, I could tell that even if I was a respected cynic and 'gadfly,' he could not fully approve of my actions. However flattering it might be to know that my classmates considered me as reliable as a priest for exorcising rumors, I had to agree! Was this bitter portrait really the sort of person I was destined to become without the SOS Brigade? I didn't like the implications of that at all! Although the value of sensibility cannot be overstated, especially in conjunction with any discussion involving Haruhi Suzumiya, in a world without her its virtue would lose a little bit of charm. After all, antimatter is only considered potent when there is an abundance of matter for it to interact with and annihilate!

Regardless, it was startlingly clear that I had been withdrawn, even lonely, for much of the term, and that Kunikida was relieved and unsurprised to find me seeking the company of some strange club. I could only hope it wasn't his expectation that I would discredit and abandon it after a few days! However, Kunikida, thank you for looking out for me!

Nakagawa's stories of Indonesia were probably more interesting to all of us, although they didn't have the thoughtful level of detail Kunikida's colorful incident reports had. For the most part, they were simply unusual details thrown together in a boisterous sequence. Nevertheless, it was well past the usual time for the club to disperse when Nagato finally came to hover silently beside the table and remind us.

I had wanted a moment to speak with Nagato alone, but as I was gathering my things, Nakagawa remained, looming beside me. Sorry, Nagato. Perhaps tomorrow we can have the first real meeting of the full Literature Club. I have to wonder what that will be like...

Like a stray cat who suspected a source of food, Nakagawa trailed beside me down the hill, wearing a curious face that I carefully ignored. Finally, he opened his mouth, and while what he said next came as quite a surprise to me, I couldn't suppress the belief that it wasn't really what he meant to say at all.

“Hey, Kyon, I have to ask you for a favor. That is... if Shamisen is still doing well with you, would you mind keeping him a while longer?”

Shamisen. So Nakagawa was his mysterious owner who had moved away! I should have suspected. But, why does it feel as though this revelation is part of some larger pattern? 

“That won't be a problem.” I can confidently state that much at least. Shamisen, whether he speaks or not, is a familiar and friendly face, someone that hasn't changed and won't ask me startling or awkward questions. Besides. “Imouto would be very disappointed to see him go, in any case. How long is a while in this instance?”

Those heavy shoulders shrugged. “Ah, at least until my family moves somewhere more spacious. While it's good to be back, we don't have nearly as much space as we did before the moved. I guess that's the price of rushing things, though. Isn't it better to plan patiently for the future?”

For once we were in agreement. And when we said our good-byes, I had the first hint of a notion about the next phase of my own plan.


	6. Chapter Five

 

 

  
  
“Maybe you've just changed genres!  Like, rather than be part of a science fiction show, you're now in a high school love drama!”  
  
It was Sunday, the last weekend of the term, but rather than relaxing and enjoying myself, preparing for winter vacation, thinking about Christmas, or any sort of sensible, typical activity, I found myself doing the same thing I had done on autopilot for far too many Sunday mornings this term – bicycling down to the train station in order to meet with a troublesome individual, and discuss impossible activities, questionable events, and generally cause myself trouble.  
  
However, in a fortunate sort of reversal, I had been bribed to be here, rather than paying a truly excessive amount to cover other people's meals.  Perhaps these events themselves are considered cosmically sufficient punishment by any universe-creating beings in charge of such things.  
  
However, not everything had changed.  For instance, Haruhi was still full of energetically nonsensical ideas.  
  
“How could this be categorized as a love drama?”  
  
I knew instantaneously that I would be sorry I had asked.  
  
“Come on!”  She said, scornfully flipping her hand through her hair.  “Isn't it clear?  You're one of two boys joining a club made primarily of girls.  Either this Nagato is the protagonist and it will be about whether the boisterous action hero or the sarcastic geek gets her, or you're the protagonist and you're entering a situation full of unusual harem character types.”  
  
I can't describe how many things are wrong about that description, not to mention alarming, uncomfortable, or otherwise inappropriate.  For one thing, Kunikida joined the club as well as Nakagawa, though you'll undoubtedly dismiss him as an unimportant side character.  Taniguchi we can safely dismiss from serious consideration.  However, even if I agreed with that summary of my circumstances, what would that make you in this instance?  
  
“The sensible opposite-gendered friend who sets the hero straight with genre-savvy advice,” she said, promptly, looking irritated that I had not immediately understood this.  As this sentence, however, had even more problems with it than the last, I feel that all I need to say is “Impossible,” and my meaning cannot be misunderstood.  Haruhi's fingers curling into fists while she plays with her hair is a sign that's equally unable to be misinterpreted.  
  
“Geez, Kyon!  Get with the program!  If you can’t accept the situation, you’re never going to cut it as a protagonist, or even a male romantic lead!  Do you want to be put on a bus halfway through the season?”  
  
Haruhi.  It may be a hopeless cause, but it’s necessary to at least try to explain that when I accepted your invitation to come here, even if it was because I wanted to get my new life here on track, the track certainly wasn’t based off of a script bible or The Hero With The Thousand Faces.  No, instead what I want is to find a way to re-establish some semblance of a normal, decent life.  It might be a forlorn hope to try including you in that life, but despite Koizumi’s misperceptions, it genuinely seemed as though this was the sort of situation you might have insight into.  As usual, however, your understanding is so outlandish it’s impossible to put it to practical use.  
  
“A stupid grin like that isn’t going to get you very far, either!” she points out, sharply, and suddenly my expression is more closely matched to the familiar scowl on her face.  Attempting my explanation seems more futile than ever, but it isn’t as though there’s a better alternative -- predictably, though, I only get halfway through it, to the mention of a normal life, before this irrepressible force of nature disguised as a teenaged girl cuts me off again.  
  
“You don’t get it, do you?” she asks, leaning forward, but this time her scowl is gone completely.  Instead there’s a much more frightening expression on her face -- one of shining-eyed sincerity and eagerness.  “Kyon.  Maybe the last world you lived in was real, and maybe it was something somebody else created.  But from everything you’ve told me, you can be absolutely sure that this one is a fake!  It’s meant to be a specific kind of story, tailored for a specific purpose, and if you’re really going to fit into it, the first thing you need to do is figure out what kind of story it is!”  
  
As soon as she lets go of my hand I find myself sinking back in my seat with a thud.  Is it possible that what she just said actually makes a disturbing kind of sense?  I can’t believe that the words I’m about to say are something a rational mind can even consider, but I say them anyway.  
  
“Let’s assume for a moment that you’re right,” I tell her.  “Even if that is the case, what can I do that would reasonably make that kind of test?”  I’m absolutely certain that asking this is a mistake, and that certainty is compounded when my sentence is further punctuated by a clicking noise -- she already has a pen readied in her hand, and after a moment, there’s a flow chart taking shape on a cafe napkin.  
  
I can’t promise that any of the advice taking shape is anything that I’ll pay attention to. Even if there’s a particular kind of sense to it in this instance, Haruhi’s logic has always been impossible for me to accept. But whether I’m going to settle in to the new status quo or continue looking for a way out -- a decision I’m embarrassed to say I have yet to make -- there’s no point in running around in a panicked haze any longer. Planning as if my life is real is the first step. I might even turn farther afield than Haruhi, if it will result in some kind of workable strategy.


End file.
